(On which I briefly make a new friend)
‘Just me then’ I thought as I set of from the rendezvous point for today’s RSF ride and into a slightly damp Lancashire morning, destination Adlington and the Boatyard Bus Cafe which quite literally is a café based in an old double decker bus. They do a very good, toasted bacon sandwich and the brown sauce has a certain ‘piquancy’ on the tastebuds.
It’s only a quick 7 miles down the canal and the drizzle starts to lift so I can enjoy the above culinary delight sat outside admiring the ducks. I also decide to vary the route and check out a short diversion across to the Wigan Road and back via the sand pits. While I’m looking at this courtesy of the OS maps app on my phone, the feeling steals over me that I’m being watched – very, very closely watched in fact. Looking up I’m staring into the deep soulful eyes of a Border Collie doing his best to present an impression of homelessness, patient endurance of long cold days of hunger, and if he could just have a bit of that sandwich that would keep him going a little longer thank you so much. I’m a soft touch but not so soft as to be taken in, I know he’s just nipped out of the adjoining workshop and practices this on all and sundry with no doubt much success – it’s the eyes that do it every time.
Once my sandwich is gone, I’m dismissed as not worthy of attention and he slopes off to await the next victim while I get going again and set of along Sandy Lane, a nice wide unsurfaced track. The return via the sand pit starts well, or at least well for the first twenty yards, before veering left onto a very wet muddy, sandy mix of - well let’s just call it ‘stuff’. The sort of ‘stuff’ that takes hard pedalling to a new level and involves lots of wheel spinning. Perseverance is rewarded once past the sand pit itself, the going while muddy at least is firm. My black shoes are now a uniformly rich brown muddy colour.
Passing a small herd of goats who eye me, the bike, bike tyres, and so on in the optimistic hope that I might be to some degree edible, I pop out into an old yard that has become a repository for deceased military vehicles and other bits of unwanted, ancient, but possibly useful engineering. I wonder if I’ve gone off route or back in time somewhere but no, there’s the exit returning me to civilization over there. Once on more familiar ground it’s a nice gentle ride up to Allance Bridge so I toy briefly with the though of nipping up Lead Mines Clough, but I know the climb out is brutal at 25% and I can’t summon up the desire today, opting instead for the easier route to Healey Nab, a nice little spot with extensive views for a small hill. There’s even a trail there for mountain bikers who like leaping over stuff and crashing a lot. I’ve tried it, it’s tight twisty and yes, I crashed a lot! I once read somewhere that they used to take small children up ‘The Nab’ in days past and turning them upside down, gently (one hopes) bang their heads on the ground to make sure they would remember the local boundaries – quite possibly an old wife’s tale but does conjure up some wonderful images.
There are blue skies above now as I head past the picturesque White Coppice cricket ground and along The Goit, a small river flowing from the direction of Brinscall. There’s a sneaky cut through that takes me out and across to Wheelton where I can join the first few hundred yards of the outward route and home for a brew. Having just rebuilt the entire rear end of the bike with new bearings, cleaned and serviced everything else I was pleased that the faithful machine performed faultlessly and as I turned the hosepipe on the mud coating the recently polished frame reflected on an unexpectedly pleasant day out in the Lancashire countryside.
Now to plan something for the end of January.
Penned by 'Rusty' bearing